Wednesday, 4 September 2013

What a crazy summer it has been. I've never been so stressed out since I was in university and trying to cram for a whole terms worth of material in one heinous all-nighter, just so I could pass my exam with flying colours and justify the copious amount of partying I had done for weeks before.

But this summer has been a whirlwind of madness, punctuated by a month long visit from our dear friends from Oz right smack bang in the middle. It has been so much fun - don't get me wrong - but very 'insane in da membrane'. I finally know what it's like to be a crack head...frazzled, tense, not making sense, running around like a proverbial headless chicken, etc.

And today is the first day of school. This is unfortunate, as last night whilst tucking the boys in I spotted their unwashed, stained uniforms I thought: "I'm not ready for this." Never mind. The dirty clothes are currently whirling around in the dryer and will be sweet smelling (if a little damp) as the monsters make their way to school in just under an hour - their stomachs pumped full of homemade pancakes to assuage my mother guilt.

Last weekend was my little sister's wedding to one of our best friends. It was glorious and brilliant in every way and I have only vague recollections of dancing to 'Pump Up The Jam' in a most un-motherly fashion whilst clutching my disgruntled 18-month old fat baby. I hope no one was filming.

My sister (who looked like she should be gracing the cover of Vogue) and her new husband, are currently sunning their beautiful selves in Bali so I am both suitably happy for them and jealous in equal measure. I think of them everyday when I step outside onto our terrace and maybe/maybe not step in a small neat pile of doggy doo-doo. (Note to self: must remember to put contact lenses in immediately upon waking up). We are puppy-sitting their very naughty 6 month old Yorkie for two weeks and my sister's last words to me were: "Please don't let her die." Sis, if you're reading this, I am trying my very best...WHEN i remember...and as of today, she is still alive. Result!

Working backwards, the trip to Sicily was brilliant. Grandpa rented a gorgeous beachfront villa and filled it with two daughters, three grandchildren and a son-in-law for good measure. With long enough of a gap since childbirth I finally dared to don that two piece Abercrombie & Fitch bikini that's lain unworn and unloved, balled up in the corner of my sock drawer for two years. It got some seriously good use as I spent more time swimming in the glorious bathtub-esque sea than I did doing anything else...save scoffing gelato. The only hitch to the whole trip was getting thrown up on three times by a carsick baby en route to Stanstead Airport at 3am and having to fly smelling of dried sick. And then of course there was the fact that my sister missed the flight and happened to be the one in possession of everyone's holiday Euro's. Oopsie. Still, it one of the best holidays I can ever remember having and besides furnishing me with what appears to be a permanent mahogany tan (soon to morph into old lady sunspots in the not-to-distant future I imagine), it did wonders to soothe my frazzled nerves and prepare me for the monumental task of getting together a playlist for my sisters wedding reception and writing a speech. (Both of which I frantically scrambled together the morning of the wedding. Don't ask.)

Slipping backwards into memory, this summer was punctuated by the arrival of our dearest friends from Sydney. We only get to see each other once every 3-4 years so it was very special and amazing to spend such a great chunk of the summer with them. They have two children, so sometimes things got a bit chaotic with the four of us adults being outnumbered by little people, but a plethora of evening cocktails and a handy supply of dvds did the trick. Mostly :)

We went to not one but TWO(!) festivals this year. First, the behemoth that was Glastonbury, followed by the somewhat posh but oh-so-easy-to-be-at Wilderness Festival, where I have to say the highlight was watching the daily 'crazy cricket' matches with non-stop brilliant banter and the occasional male and female streakers. Hilarious. Even better was the old-skool rave I found myself at in this hidden valley there late one night with a few sisters and friends. Once I got used to dancing on an incline on a hill, squeezed into other, rather more nubile young bodies than my own, it was great fun and I danced like I was seventeen again (though possibly that was in my head and I was in fact dancing like a mental mother let loose on her one night out a year after too many vodka red bulls....but who knows).

So that's all I really have to say on the matter. I've got to dash now, and convince my baby not to chuck a blueberry yoghurt drink across the kitchen, convince Egg that as it's going to be 28 degrees today and his heavy winter fleece is not appropriate first day of school wear, and convince Dumpie that in fact we have to leave in 10 minutes and not two hours as he is want to believe.

I'm back in the land of the blogging folks. Sorry it's been so long, but life has been too hectic to handle let alone write about. I've missed it.

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ABOUT ME...

I am a well-intentioned but frequently disillusioned wife and mother, cathartically blogging about the daily frustrations of raising three(!) boys (Egg 12, Dumpie 10, and Squitty 'the baby' 5...) whilst trying to forge a career in music.
As a frustrated artist, domestic slave, and hardcore fashionista , life is a constant struggle of trying not to lose the plot whilst keeping a sense of self.
Throw in a husband who also refuses to "grow up", wonderfully dysfunctional family and friends, and you get a shambolic household that shouldn't work - but somehow does.
These domestic adventures and random observations of the world at large (fueled in part by excessive daily intake of chocolate and caffeine) are contained herein. Welcome to my world...